Pontifex Insaniae
Short on Sanity is an encounter in the Madness & Magma mission hub. It comes after Insane Armsmen, Mad Minions 3 if you have Boots of Magma Walking, or Deranged Disciples 4 if you don't have Boots of Magma Walking. To start the encounter, you must also defeat Syraxa and Priestess Guilda. Enemies *Tibur's Rock Wall (2080 Gold, 256 Xp, 160 Energy, 9 HP Normal) *Tibur's Sanity Smasher (2405 Gold, 296 Xp, 185 Energy, 9 HP Normal) *Tibur's Insanity Enforcer (2730 Gold, 336 Xp, 210 Energy, 9 HP Normal) * High Priest Tibur (5980 Gold, 736 Xp, 460 Energy, 1 HP All) *Locked until others are defeated.* Transcript Introduction Glowing orange-red tendrils burn a fiery light between the masses of dark stone, a network of magma channels that have discovered or seared away spaces in which they might flow - intruding into the rock's solidity as though to claim and annex, express superiority and exert imperium. Standing there, illuminated by the infernal glow, is a large gathering of robed men and women, humans and dwarves, and other creatures besides. Before them, standing on a mound of rock, is a man whose robes seem far more elaborate than the others'. A tall purple adornment of some kind extends from his collar bone to well above his head - shrouding his skull with the same purple as his other garments. "Ever notice how more important priests always have bigger hats?" Hugh asks. "Tells you something, that does. Not sure what, but something." As interesting as that observation is, your eyes only dwell on the apparent high priest's headwear for a moment before moving onto the individuals who stand around his platform - facing the crowd alongside their master. Three of them are massive brutes, their heads on the same level as his in spite of his elevation. One is an oroc, and from the way Rakshara spits on the ground you know she's focused on him as well. The other two are even larger, hulking grey-skinned creatures whose robes could perhaps serve as small tents. Each grasps an immense mace, which from the look of their brawny arms would likely be fatal if experienced at close quarters. "Ogres," Tessa says. "Ever fought one before?" "Once or twice," you reply. "The trick is not to let them hit you." "The bigger they are-" Hugh begins. But you wave him into silence as the high priest speaks. "I have returned in triumph!" He reaches into the extensive folds of his garments, and withdraws what appears to be a large book. He brandishes it above his head. "The sacred text is ours!" "Hail Tibur!" "The madness! The madness!" "For Guilbert! For the walrus" "Trustard!" These and other cries of greater or lesser lucidity sound out across the cavern for a considerable length of time. When at last silence descends, or at least the jubilation relaxes into a subdued murmuring, the high priest continues. "Guilda waits for us at the place of invocation. Let us journey there together, and summon this world's rightful ruler!" "Hail Tibur!" "The madness! The madness!" You advance, anxious to curtail this second bombardment of lunacy. "So you're responsible for all this?" you ask, glaring at the high priest. "I am High Priest Tibur, my son." He looks around. "Someone fetch these newcomers their robes!" "What's that book you're holding?" "This?" He waves the tome through the air in a flourish so dramatic that it almost results in him toppling from his perch. But one of the ogres manages to grab a handful of purple robe and drag him back into place. "Did they not tell you upon your initiation? No, of course not! No time for formal initiations, when we're in the middle of the ritual! Not even time for the great hamster ceremony, or the cheese death. No matter... No matter... But know this initiate: The book in my hands is the journal of Guilbert himself!" "Guilbert!" "The madness! The mad-" "Guilbert's journal?" You bellow the words, and succeed once more in forestalling the collective insanity. "Our great treasure, the bedrock upon which our palace of blue cheese has been built! Discovered in the underground passages by a gatherer of mushrooms." "Hail the gatherer!" "Hail the mushrooms!" "Hail Guilbert!" "Hail the walrus!" You sigh. "He read the sacred writings," the high priest continues, "touched the mind of purest madness. And so he became the first of us." A group of dwarves runs towards you from the shadows of a dimly lit portion of the cavern. Your hand reaches for your weapon, before you notice that they're not armed. They're laden down with piles of grey and purple cloth. They come to a stop in front of you, and begin passing out garments. "Bloody hell!" Hugh says, as he accepts a set of robes. "They even have one in my size!" "Where do they get these things?" Tessa whispers. You gesture for your companions to play along. They do as bidden unfolding the robes and eyeing them up as though admiring their cut and color. "The journal..." you say. "Yes!" the high priest says. "The first high priest shared its teachings. He preached from the journal, even when ungrateful fools pelted him with tomatoes and weasels. And in time he found those worthy enough to hear the words of greatness. We became his first disciples, and joined his ministry of madness!" "The madness! The-" "We returned to those caverns!" The high priest raises his voice. Perhaps the cacophony is getting on his nerves as well... "We returned at last when we were great in number, to begin our preparations. But before we were ready, thieving deep gnomes murdered our first high priest and stole the book." "Thieves!" "Scum!" "Boil them in vinegar!" "Kill them with kippers!" "But my mightiest followers and I did smite the deep gnomes, and recover it. Now it is ours once more, and the ritual will take place!" "Hail Tibur!" "Hail Guilbert!" "The madness! The madness!" "Can we attack?" Tessa hisses. "Yes!" you reply. "For the love of all the gods, yes!" Conclusion "Feel the touch of his holy madness!" The high priest's hands blaze with purple light -- a furious eldritch aura that matches his robes, the gem upon his forehead, and the glowing eyes of the now-dead priestess in hue. He thrusts his palms out towards you, and the world throbs. Your vision blurs at the edges. Light dances across the vault of your comprehension. Then you blink, and everything's solid and stable once more. "It's a good trick," you say. "But once was enough." You stride towards him. He backs away, his heels stamping down on the hem of his trailing, disheveled robes. "Give me the journal." "Ha! I would sooner die than-" "I thought as much." Your sword flashes. His head falls -- still encased in the ridiculous hat. The cult is done. Behind you one ogre resembles a pincushion, with a collection of arrows clustered around each of his vitals. Another smolders, brimstone-scented smoke wafting from his melted flesh. There's a cleaver wound in his skull for good measure, though it looks to have been post-mortal. The high priest's oroc minion is missing both arms and his head. Some of the cultists are fleeing across the cavern. Perhaps the sanity has been scared back into them... Tessa takes aim at one, but you call for her to hold fire. They can't do any harm now. You crouch beside the high priest's body, and remove the book from the recess to which he returned it when the fighting started. A wave of disquiet washes through your brain the instant you open it. There's power in the journal. That part wasn't a deranged delusion at any rate. "Be careful," Brachus says. "There are eldritch forces emanating from its pages. You would do well to destroy it." "I will. But first I want to know what's in it." The demon gives you a curious look from Hugh's features. Then he shrugs and moves away. You sit down on the mound from which the high priest addressed his congregation and begin to read. Word by word the thoughts of a madman fill your mind. They're still revolving there when you cast the book into the magma. *** "They never came back," you say. Blackness engulfs the dark cavern, save for the spheres of illumination created by your spells and the soft glow of the lichen upon the distant walls. The multicolored flora is the only sign of life here now. The dragons' lair, the place where the drakes slept the slumber of millennia and dreamed their dark dreams, is barren. Wherever the survivors of the war went, they didn't return here. As in the chambers you passed through on your way here, which once housed tribes of kobolds and beastmen, the destruction wrought by your ancestor has proven fatal and final. He and his companions slaughtered the minions, burned their homes -- sparing no one from their righteous fury. Then they entered this massive chamber, slew its guardian, and destroyed the unborn dragons who lay curled up within their eggs. Total war. Utter annihilation. Such were the deeds which he brought about, grim actions that may have saved West Kruna. Your companions gaze around in wonder. On each face is writ the knowledge that they're walking through the past, treading the ground where great immensities were performed and caused. Heroes fought here, bled here, died here. The others seem impressed. But you... You feel only a cold emptiness. Here you stand, in the silent echoes of that long ago time. A man who wanders through the carcass of history, never knowing if he'll ever escape it. The Dragon-Rider's past has been your present. Once that would have thrilled you. But now... Now you've felt the weight of destiny, the stifling, ensnaring threads of fate's web. You glance at the others. Your friends, your companions. As dear to you as any others in the world. But the notions which fill your brain aren't ones you can share, not even with them. You can't inflict your doubt, your troubles on them. Rakshara comes to you at that very moment, and for a second you imagine that she's read your thoughts -- that she'll speak to you of your concerns, your dreams, your fears. And part of you yearns for her to do so, to give you an excuse to speak your mind and heart. "I've guided you to this place, as I promised I would." "You have. And-" She holds up her hand, preventing the effusion of gratitude she no doubt senses on your tongue. "Now I have a favor to ask of you." "Anything." "I want to remain with you on your journey. I don't believe destiny brought us together merely to have us part ways now." Destiny... Always destiny. You sigh, and a quizzical look appears on the orange oroc's face. Once more it crosses your mind to speak out, to tell her of the cage, the web of fate and destiny and kismet and... "I'd be honored to have you with me." She smiles. You do the same, driving your other feelings deep within. Category:Madness & Magma